


잠깐 소년아 (내가 질투 나잖아)

by liminalism



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional Constipation, Jealousy, M/M, seungkwan is so... tsundere. fucking capricorns.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminalism/pseuds/liminalism
Summary: alcohol + seungkwan and mingyu + Feelings !whatcan go wrong.





	잠깐 소년아 (내가 질투 나잖아)

**Author's Note:**

> [title from mansae]
> 
> seungkwan lowkey flirts irl with literally everyone even during pre-debut and this is me pushing my agenda that everyone (esp hhu) is in love with him in return. this is peak capricorn sensibilities.
> 
> also i! don't actually kNOW how long this is going to be i've been writing this for weeks now and i was itching with the urge to just post _something_ already so... here we go.

Drunk Mingyu isn’t all that different from regular Mingyu. From what Seungkwan observes, he’s still  giggly, sensitive, and clumsy, just doubly so. Seungkwan barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he sees Mingyu trip over yet another stretch of thin air in his attempt to cross the dance floor. Granted, the lights are trippy and blinding, but as Seungkwan looks around the place, he notes with no small amount of glee that Mingyu seems to be the drunkest in the remaining club-goers.

“Mingyu-hyung, you’re a lightweight,” Seungkwan calls with a grin on his face, and is rewarded with the image of Kim Mingyu pouting and stomping his wobbly way towards the corner table they had managed to snag when they entered like the world’s biggest baby left alone in a club. His forehead is actually lined with creases. Seungkwan cackles.

“I’m not! I’m not even drunk yet,” he slurs, drawing out the words.

Seungcheol, sitting across Seungkwan and nursing his fourth bottle of beer, whips out his phone and trains the camera on Mingyu. “This is fuckin’ incredible,” he says, the delight in his voice almost matching Seungkwan’s. Mingyu takes a stumbling step forward and, with great effort and incredible slowness, manages to sit himself heavily down on the chair beside Seungkwan. The smell of sweat and alcohol washes over him, and it would have made him gag if they hadn’t been at this club since six and his sense of smell hadn’t already been completely deadened to everything except, possibly, vomit. Not that Seungkwan particularly wants to test that theory out.

Mingyu lifts an arm and drapes it across his shoulders, and Seungkwan staggers a bit at how heavy it is. “Hyung, you’re so drunk,” he teases, pushing the arm off. Mingyu pouts even harder in response.

“Seungkwan! Kwannie, take that back. ‘M not a lightweight.”

“And that’s exactly what a lightweight would say -”

“Seungcheol-hyung, what time is it?” Mingyu interrupts, swivelling around to face Seungcheol. He scrambles to make it seem like he hadn’t been capturing the entire thing on video but it didn’t seem like Mingyu even noticed, because when he doesn’t answer fast enough, Mingyu actually makes to grab at the phone himself.

“Gyu oh my god calm _down_ \-- psht! Don’t touch! Here, fuck, okay -- it’s barely even 11!”

Mingyu swivels back around to face Seungkwan and leans in, grinning smugly. “See? It’s not even midnight yet, who would--” he swallows down a hiccup and grimaces. “Who’d be drunk before midnight?”

Seungkwan leans in even further and takes much amusement from watching Mingyu go cross-eyed to keep him in his sight. He doesn’t miss Mingyu’s eyes flicking down, for just a few quick seconds, to his lips, dragging his vision up as quickly as he can in his state. Seungkwan files that away for later processing.

“ _You_ ,” he whispers with a relish, “as everyone in this club can attest.” It’s true when Seungkwan says everyone. The moment they arrived, Mingyu had made a beeline for the bar, downed two cocktails and a few shots in between in less than half an hour, and joined the growing throng of people on the dance floor. He’d been there ever since, and every time Seungkwan had looked around to take inventory of the rest of their party, he’d noticed Mingyu had had a different partner.

He didn’t want it to, but the knowledge kind of left a bad taste in his mouth, and Seungkwan had drank shot after shot of his own to drown it out.

He represses a grimace. Now his mood has worsened, and he needs another drink.

He leans back abruptly and Mingyu almost stumbles forward trying to follow him, only recovering with the help of Seungkwan’s hand on his chest. “You’re so drunk, hyung,” Seungkwan repeats, this time allowing a tiny amount of vitriol to seep into his voice. “Honestly, I feel bad for whoever gets assigned to take care of you.” He twists his mouth a bit, for effect, making sure Mingyu’s full attention is still on him. “I’m glad it won’t be me.”

The creases on Mingyu’s forehead gets deeper. “Why are you being so mean to me?” His voice sounds small, and he looks genuinely upset. “Stop that, Kwannie.”

Seungkwan feels himself start to give, and he… he doesn’t know, doesn’t want to process that right now as well. He makes to leave, and only just remembers Seungcheol was also sitting with them when he sees his hyung determinedly ignoring the two of them existed. Seungkwan snatches at the chance to escape.

“Hyung, I’ll just be --” he gestures towards the dance floor. “I’ll look for the others or something. Stay here?”

“Not like I have a choice, after all that,” Seungcheol mumbles, mostly to himself. “But yeah, sure, go on and enjoy yourself. Looks like you need it.”

Seungkwan lets the beat of the deafening music seep into his blood and make him come alive again. “Also, hyung, can I finish that?” He nods at the bottle of beer only halfway full.

Seungcheol looks on the verge of refusing so Seungkwan musters his fullest, flirtiest charm and says, “ _I love youuuuuu_ , hyung, please?” In the corner of his eye, he sees Mingyu staring dumbly at the two of them, and he feels a vindictive rush that gets him thrumming even more.

Seungcheol heaves a sigh but hands the bottle over anyway, and Seungkwan wastes no time topping it off, checking around if there are any more half-full drinks to finish before finally heading off to the dance floor. If he stumbles a bit, then fuck that. He’s here to dance and drink and have a good time. Let people look at his butt and shit. He knows he looks good tonight, anyway.

First, though, he heads to the bar, ordering the strongest cocktail he knows. The drink is thickly cloying sweet and fruity and just by sniffing at it he knows it’s equivalent to death but he still finishes it in record time, because listen, does Seungkwan care? The answer is no, fucking unequi-- unequivoca-- _definitely_ no, I don’t care. Fuck you, Mingyu. I just want to _dance_ and if you won’t with me then I’ll fucking. Do it myself--

He scouts the dance floor with a huff, sipping at his drink. He locates Hansol, looking and acting not that far off from how he usually does but on a more intense scale, dancing on his own.

“Hansolie, dance with me?” Seugkwan whispers into his ear, taking Hansol’s arms and draping them around his neck.

Hansol frowns a little, leaning closer and sniffing. “You reek, Boo.”

Seungkwan pouts in response. “That’s mean,” he says, leaning away but keeping his arms around Hansol’s waist, compelling their bodies to start moving to the beat. He’s not sure if he’s flirting on his own or if it’s the general atmosphere of the dance floor, people moving to the deafening beat and lights wild on his eyes, coupled with the alcohol, but he thinks-- yeah, he’s flirting. He wants to dance, and so he’ll dance, and Hansol is still there.

“No, Seungkwan, seriously, you’re really drunk?” Hansol peers at him. Seungkwan rolls his eyes. Of course he’s drunk. He didn’t pay that much for his own drinks to not get drunk.

Hansol snorts. “Okay, point.” He shrugs. “And you’re thinking out loud. Control your mouth, Boo.”

“What was that about my mouth, Sol?” Seungkwan grins, puckering his lips a little, kissing the air and lifting an eyebrow, and Hansol finally gives, cackling at him.

“You dweeb,” he says fondly, relaxing into the space between them and adjusting his arms around Seungkwan. One of his hands rises to ruffle at Seungkwan’s hair.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hansol asks. "Just making sure." Seungkwan feels his fingers tangling in his hair and he hums into the touch, pleased.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just dance with me,” he assures him, and he closes his eyes a little and moves more determinedly to the pounding of the beat. Hansol lets out another cackle and starts moving with him, starting up a dance that would look dumb if anyone else were doing it. Seungkwan loves him so much.

“Love you too, Boo!”

Seungkwan’s mood has considerably lightened, so of course when they pass by the edge of the dance floor most visible by their table, Seungkwan makes sure to drape himself extra closer to Hansol, gripping his arms extra tighter around his waist. He resolutely doesn’t glance in their table’s direction, turning them around so his back is to them. He wants to show he’s having a good time, but he puts the stop at seeing if Min-- if whoever’s left at their table can see, or is looking. That’s crossing the line from ‘petty’ to ‘pathetic,’ and whatever else he is, Seungkwan refuses to be pathetic.

He sees Soonyoung somewhere in front of him, but his vision’s hazy and the world is a little bit too spinny so he’s not too sure if that _is_ Jihoon he’s grinding with, but… it probably is.

“Yeah, they made out a while ago,” Hansol confirms, mouth brushing his ear. “Then they kind of just-- lost all sense of propriety, I guess. Even if it is a club.” Seungkwan can’t help the shiver at the proximity, the deep voice in his ear, and steps closer, enjoying the feeling of arms around him and the warmth of a body pressed up to him. Hansol tightens his hold in response. “It was pretty intense and _super_ weird at the same time.”

“What, not used to members of our friend group dating each other yet?” Seungkwan asks teasingly. “Junhui-hyung and Hao-hyung have been together for ages, and even before that they had that dancing around each other phase. Plus the number of times Seungcheollie-hyung developed a crush on one us… hah,” he giggles. “Remember when he started going all awkward and flustered on _Chan_?”

“Like I could forget,” Hansol snorts. “That was lowkey bad-weird at that time.”

Seungkwan shrugs. “That’s why Cheol-hyung didn’t want to admit it. And they both got over it anyway.”

“What about you?” Hansol turns the full force of his gaze on Seungkwan, and a weaker person would have swooned. Let it not be said, therefore, that Boo Seungkwan was a weak man. Even so, remnants of his old infatuation flicker in the back of his mind.

“What about me?”

“You over me?”

“ _Yes_ , Hansol, as hard as it might be to believe, I am actually over you,” Seungkwan says with an eyeroll, but they’ve been moving in a slow circle for a while now, the music having morphed into something chill with rhythmic beats, and his line of sight happens to include their table. Minghao seems to have tired himself out, and beside him is Mingyu, slumped over but facing their direction. Seungcheol looks like he’s trying to talk him back into some measure of sobriety. Seungkwan instinctively clutches at Hansol tighter, and Hansol raises an eyebrow in response.

“What’s all this, then?” he asks, voice skeptical and gaze knowing, but willing to listen. Always willing to listen. Seungkwan loves Hansol so much. He didn’t think Hansol wouldn’t notice he was acting strange...r than usual, but. It’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Admitting everything to Hansol?

He lasts maybe thirty seconds staring into Hansol’s eyes and trying to decide whether he should come clean or not, and Hansol stays unwavering. They’ve stopped rotating now, and Seungkwan’s back is facing the other way. Hansol looks between him and, presumably, Mingyu way back over there, and makes the connection on his own, if the sudden burst of clarity on his face is any indication.

Apparently, he didn’t even need to actually say anything. Seungkwan loves Hansol so, _so_ much.

“Damn, Kwan,” he says in an undertone, eyebrows nearly disappearing in his hairline. “Way to get over me.”

You know what, never mind. Fuck you, Hansol.

Hansol giggles a little. “Sorry, but the joke was there, you know.”

Seungkwan glares weakly. “Whatever.”

“No, anyway, but seriously, Kwan,” Hansol hurries to say. “ _Mingyu_? Like… alright. Hmm.” He pauses, brow furrowing. “I mean, now that you think about it… I get it, I think. Kind of? You’re always at each other’s throats, but I guess if you’re into that…?” Hansol trails off, face turning into a smirk. “Hate sex, Seungkwan? Spicy.”

Seungkwan hits him lightly on the shoulder, fighting a blush. “You know what, just shut up if you’re not gonna help, that’s--”

Hansol breaks out into more giggles, catching Seungkwan’s fist before it hits its mark again. “Sorry, sorry, yeah, I’m zipping it. But what do you want me to say? Do you want me to dissuade you or something?”

“I-- god. I honestly don’t know. He makes me so-- he makes me so tired and annoying and you know how I can feel myself physically turn into a really mean, bitchy person when he’s there? God, Hansolie, he’s so easy to tease, he always makes it so easy, but sometimes I don’t like what I end up saying, you know?”

Hansol hums, stroking his hair again. He’s been on the receiving part of Seungkwan’s random spouts of self-correction rants enough to know that when he gets like this, all Seungkwan needs is someone to listen. And as someone who’s close friends with Mingyu too, he’d played messenger enough between the two when they cross lines and boundaries in their verbal sparring sometimes that Hansol also knows Mingyu does, occasionally, genuinely get hurt by Seungkwan’s shit. It’s not his job, but when Mingyu gets upset, it’s Hansol who tells Seungkwan to lay off and apologize.

Everyone really does need a Hansol in their lives.

Seungkwan slumps over and rests his head on Hansol’s shoulder, suddenly inexplicably tired. Closing his eyes to a furiously spinning world, Seungkwan starts mumbling.

“God, Hansolie. I like him so much. I don’t even know how it happened. I mean… I dunno. You know how we are. We’re both so good at riling each other up. Seokmin once told me it was because of our zodiac signs and I no joke almost actually did get into astrology to see how accurate that was. But…” He groans, frustrated.

“It was like one day I went from wanting to slap him silly and then _kissing_ him silly. And there are times that-- that I think he’s kind of into me too? Like, I don’t know, I’d catch him _looking_ at me too long or something. But I can never be sure because it’s _Mingyu-hyung_ and he’s always so affectionate. I mean, ugh that’s so weird, I don’t know if you’ve noticed -- _duh_ of course you haven’t what am I saying -- but _I_ have, and to others, he’s always so clingy and affectionate, but like, never to me? He’d never cling to me or hug me out of nowhere or just like… I don’t know. You know? I’ve noticed that.”

Seungkwan flaps his hands in distress.  

“He’ll cling to Seokmin-hyung, Minghao-hyung, fuck, Sol, if Channie wasn’t so prickly lately he’d probably even take the risk and annoy him all the time. And that’s how clingy Mingyu is? But with me, it’s weird, it must be weird how I actually noticed it, but the only times he touches me is to, fuck, hit me or pinch me or something. Just-- for annoyance purposes. It’s so-- it’s such a minor thing but that’s. It makes me feel… unimportant, I guess? Is the word. Like I’m _not_ worth his touch. Wow,” he cringes. “I just heard myself say that out loud, and for one thing I am disgusted with myself because, uh, yes, Seungkwan, keep yourself together, it’s just a crush? On Mingyu-hyung, of all people? But, god, Hansol, sometimes I can’t help but get stuck on little things like this or that and this… this is one… thing…”

Seungkwan finally trails off, breathing heavily. He’s aware he’d been rambling for a good long while there, and his face feels hot with embarrassment. Somewhere in between closing his eyes and running out of steam, Hansol had managed to maneuver them across the whole room, near to where the comfort rooms were, and had managed to find a relatively isolated corner to let Seungkwan word-vomit all over him. He couldn’t remember everything he’d just said, but thinking back just brings a new wave of shame over him, and he groans, sliding down the wall Hansol had propped him on and putting his face in his hands.

“Why’d you let me _do_ that?”

He can hear shuffling as Hansol crouches down to be level with him and the sympathetic shrug in his voice when he answers, “Looks like you needed it. And I don’t mind. It’s obviously eating you up inside.”

He places a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder, rubbing comfortingly, and doesn’t resist when he leans forward to rest on him instead of the wall. Hansol wraps his arms around him. Seungkwan feels warm.

“Love you,” he mumbles into Hansol’s shirt.

“Love you too, Boo. And if you want to continue talking, just go on.”

Seungkwan rests his forehead on arms crossed over his knees and hums in response, but for now, he’s all talked out.

They stay there for a few minutes, right up until Seungkwan finds he can’t ignore the ground moving underneath him in dizzying waves anymore. He must make a noise, a small whimper or something, because he hears Hansol curse and urgently start tugging at his arms.

“Wait, Seungkwan, don’t do that, shit, I forgot, lying down makes you dizzier--”

Seungkwan resists and curls up even more, shutting his eyes tighter against the swirls and the onslaught of nausea, but it doesn’t help _at all_ that Hansol _won’t stop_ , and at one really hard tug upward, Seungkwan almost pitches forward onto his face. Everything is spinning. His head hurts, and he can’t-- doesn’t want to open his eyes because he’s sure he’s already upside down. His insides are protesting movement, but why won't the ground stop moving?

Hansol must see what’s about to happen on his face, because with a burst of uncharacteristic strength he immediately hauls him completely upward and frog-marches him toward the nearest comfort room. Seungkwan just focuses on forcing the dry heaving back enough to make it to a stall, and when they do, loses no time in dropping to his knees and throwing up. _God,_ that’s nasty.

Seungkwan screws his eyes shut tight, forcing the alcohol and bile out of system. The steady stream of mumbles in Hansol’s deep voice and the warm hands steadying him and rubbing at his back keep him upright, which is why he whimpers when their presence is abruptly taken away.

He feels more than hears another person take Hansol’s place over the rush in his ears, and it’s a larger palm on his back, a hand brushing his hair out of his face, swiping at the sweat, and a softer, gentler voice in his ear. The presence feels warm and familiar, and Seungkwan leans on the person’s chest in between his head whirling his stomach into twists, not heeding the possibility of it being a complete stranger. He’s too gone for that, though he can feel the shame bubbling underneath the surface.

Once he no longer feels like his insides are squeezing themselves out his throat, Seungkwan takes a deep, steadying breath and flushes the toilet. Hazily, he mutters his thanks, rasping out an “I’m sorry I’m a mess.” The answering snort is what makes it click.

“Mingyu?”

“It’s Mingyu- _hyung_ , doofus,” comes the snark, and Seungkwan would jerk away if he had the energy, but. He doesn’t. Instead, he leans his weight on Mingyu’s chest briefly, then stands up and makes his way to the sink beside the cubicles to wash his mouth.

His head still throbs, but it’s duller now, which lets him notice how odd the quiet of none of them speaking is, an awkward tension bubbling underneath the sound of the water and the muted bass of the music outside.

Seungkwan feels the irrational annoyance from before trickling back in, exacerbated by the fact that he made himself so vulnerable to another person (never mind that it’s Hansol and he would die for him if he asked) and now that person is gone and the reason for everything he’d blubbered to Hansol over is just standing _there_ like nothing, like he wasn't just at fault for all this-- _emotion_ \--

Seungkwan can see him awkwardly fiddling with his shirt in the mirror, and he doesn’t want to but his eyes linger on Mingyu’s physique, the way the black skinny jeans and the deep maroon v-neck sweater frame his torso and make his legs seem longer, slim and effortlessly alluring, so much more attractive with the aura of inebriation around him, and- and- and _ugh_.

He closes the faucet, swipes his hands over his face to wake himself up even more, inhales deep, and turns to face Mingyu. They stare at each other for a split second.

“Where’s--”

“Mint?”

Seungkwan blinks. “Where’s mint--? Oh.” He takes the candy from Mingyu’s outstretched hand and pops it in his mouth. Mingyu just stands there the whole time, watching him.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Mingyu nods. “What were you going to say?” he asks, voice a bit subdued.

“Oh. Uh, where’d Hansol go?”

Something passes over Mingyu’s face, a flash of emotion quickly repressed, but it’s gone too quickly for Seungkwan to digest.

“He went back to our table, I think. I, um, saw you-- he called me over when he took you here. Are you okay now?” he tacks on hurriedly, gesturing to the stall. “You seemed pretty gone over there.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “ _Me?_ ” he scoffs. Mingyu flushes instantly. “I’m fine. Don’t talk to me about alcohol tolerance when you were acting like a freshman on his first night out the whole time we’ve been here, Kim Mingyu, _you_ were embarrassing tonight, not me.”

Mingyu’s expression morphs from concerned to dark and confused. “Dude, what is your problem tonight? I didn't even imply anything like that? Watch me never ask after you again, then.” He turns to leave.

“Oh, that’s it? You going back out there to _grind_ on _everyone_ again?”

Mingyu turns around, shock clear on his face, before he visibly controls himself and turns to steely instead. “That’s none of your business, is it? And what do you mean, ‘that’s it?’ What, expecting anything from me even after treating me like shit all night?”

The cold anger in Mingyu’s tone is enough to give Seungkwan slight pause, but not enough to stop him. “Obviously not, I’m not even sure why it’s you Hansol asked over, _you_ were useless just a while ago, all drunk and flirty with literally this whole place--”

“ _Again_ ,” Mingyu interrupts, icy. “That’s none of your business now, is it?”

Seungkwan snaps his mouth shut, heart pounding lightning fast. Mingyu presses forward.

“Seriously, Seungkwan, what is your problem? You’ve been-- you’ve been so, _so_ unnecessarily _mean_ to me, I haven’t done anything to you, not that I know of, and I get we’re supposed to be a-- a Tom-and-Jerry pair or what- _fucking_ -ever and I get we don’t always see eye to eye on shit, but--”

Here Seungkwan scoffs again, and he doesn’t tamp down the urge to be absolutely petty. “You mean _never_ , we _never_ see eye to eye on anything--”

“ _I’m not done, Seungkwan, let me fucking finish_ ,” Mingyu grits through his teeth, cutting him off, and Seungkwan is surprised at the venom in Mingyu’s voice. “Whatever I fucking did to you, or _think_ I did to you, doesn’t give you the excuse to shit on me on what’s supposed to be a fucking _fun_ night out with our friends. God, Seungkwan, I’d actually apologize to you but I honestly have no clue what I should even be--”

He sees Seungkwan open his mouth and steps forward like he could stop the flow of words with his physical bulk alone. “ _No_ , I said I’m not yet done, do you ever listen to anyone but yourself?” He sneers. “Of course not. You love your own voice too much.”

Before Seungkwan can gather his thoughts from what feels like a physical slap to the face, Mingyu barrels on.

“And you know what’s even worse? It hurt, _it actually hurt_ , wow, to see you acting okay with the others and actively treating _me_ like shit you’ve got stuck under your shoe! Glaring at _me_ the whole time but all smiles and hugs for everyone else, god, what was the whole _schtick_ with Seungcheol-hyung over drinks a while ago? ‘ _I love you, hyung, please?_ ’” He pitches his voice sickeningly high, twisting his face into a sneer, a parody of Seungkwan from earlier tonight.

Something in Seungkwan freezes something icy, and he takes a step backward, blood pounding in his ears. The air feels thick and he can’t seem to draw enough oxygen in. Mingyu apparently doesn’t notice anything, picking up steam. Distantly, Seungkwan notes that Mingyu has never been pushed this far before.

“And, fuck, _Hansol_? Dancing with _Hansol_? All clingy and sweet and-- I thought you were over him, I thought-- I looked over and you were all over him instead, like the two of you were-- like _you_ were--”

Mingyu makes a frustrated sound and shoves a hand in his hair, breathing heavily.

Seungkwan hits the wall of the bathroom. He presses his back to the marbled tiles, and the cold almost doesn’t register even through the flimsy top he’s wearing. “Were what?”

Mingyu stutters. “What?”

“Were _what_ , finish your sentence, clinging to Hansol like I was what, _Mingyu-hyung_?”

His voice must betray something of what he thinks Mingyu was building up to, because Mingyu… deflates. “Seungkwan, no.”

“ _No_ yourself, finish what you wanted to say. I looked like a _slut_ , didn’t I? Going from guy to guy? Dancing with just anybody?” _Like you?_ The dam’s been broken again, and Seungkwan spits word after word, throws question after question like they’re knives into the air, directed at Mingyu. He feels like he’s going to explode with the pressure building in his chest, and _fuck you Kim Mingyu this is all your fault_. Irrationality clouds his judgment.

“What are you-- no! I didn’t say that!”

“But you _wanted_ to, and you’d have been _right_ ,” he hisses. This time it’s him stalking forward, this time it’s him backing Mingyu up to the wall, him that’s looming and angry and ugly, mean, cruel. Mingyu, despite his height, suddenly looks like a child.

“Seungkwan, _no_ , listen to me, I don’t think that, holy shit--”

“ _Fuck_ you, _Mingyu_ ,” he grits, drawing out the name. His face is so close to Mingyu, and just like before, he sees Mingyu’s wide darkdarkdark eyes jump from his own to his lips, brief-- electrifying-- he feels Mingyu gulp, and Hansol’s voice echoes in his head: _hate sex, Seungkwan?_ \-- and his hands are on his shoulders pushing him away-- they’re so close, Seungkwan knows it’d be so easy to jump the gap-- what if-- what if he--

The door to the comfort room bangs open and the two of them jump apart like they’ve been caught doing something illegal. There’s a small, breathy “Oh” of surprise and Seungkwan blankly registers Jihoon and Soonyoung, both red in the face and breathing heavily, clothes and hair rumpled, in the process of disentangling themselves from one another.

“Bathroom’s occupied, I guess,” Jihoon mutters, voice pitched lower than Seungkwan has ever heard it, and only then does the reality of the situation clicks for him. Blood rushes to his face and he can feel his cheeks heating up, knowing what he and Mingyu look like at the moment, and Seungkwan notes the slow, cat-like smirks spreading over their hyungs’ faces. He also notes the way they’re still standing too close, hands moving over waists and hips like they’re on the verge of not caring if they have an audience just so they can carry on making out, and as much as he normally adores his hyungs, that’s one thing he doesn’t want to see too much of.

He glances at Mingyu, swallows when he sees how disheveled he looks himself. Seungkwan tamps down viciously on the raw _want_ that courses through him and stalks outside, back into the fray, throwing Jihoon and Soonyoung a weak grimace and leaving Mingyu behind. He makes a beeline for their table. Thankfully, Hansol is also there, considerably more mellow now, and he slumps in the seat beside him and drapes himself all over Hansol’s side, burrowing his face in the sleeve of Hansol’s oversized button-up.

“Jihoonie-hyung and Soonyoung-hyung are making out in the bathroom now,” he bemoans. “My poor eyes. They just banged the door open like that.”

Hansol laughs, and Seungkwan frowns, drained. “Take me home,” he grumbles, trapping Hansol’s arm around both of his. “I’m so tired.”

“I’m sure.” Seungkwan can feel him looking around. “Where’s Mingyu-hyung?”

Seungkwan grumbles even more, “How the fuck would I know, I left him behind with Jihoon and Soonyoung, I don’t _care_ …”

“Are you still drunk?” The concern in Hansol’s voice is genuine, at least, and it makes him feel a bit better.

“I don’t think so. I did drink too much too quickly, though, so maybe.” Seungkwan burrows deeper into Hansol’s sleeve, squeezing his eyes shut against the weak spinning in his head. “Can we go home now, please?”

Hansol’s hand makes its way over Seungkwan’s hair again, applying pressure from the pads of his fingers to his scalp, and he relaxes a bit. “Alright, let me just book a cab and let the others know.” Seungkwan lets go of Hansol’s arm so he can fish his phone out and readjusts himself so he’s leaning just his head on Hansol’s shoulder, eyes still shut.

“Please, like we weren’t already listening,” comes Jeonghan’s voice from somewhere across from him. Seungkwan gives a grunt as a hello. “Yeah, sure, you can go. And sit up, Seungkwan-ah, you’ll get dizzy.”

“Stay safe,” he hears Seungcheol rumble. “Text when you get home, all that, you know the drill.”

“Sure, if I’m not too tired.” He can physically feel Seungcheol direct a frown at him in response, even without looking at him, and Hansol laughs again. “Yeah, no, don’t worry, hyung. I’ll make sure he texts. Or I’ll text for both of us.”

“Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan opens his eyes in surprise, pouting. It’s Mingyu.

“What do you want?” He’s too tired for anything else other than straightforwardness. Standing over him, one hand in his pocket and another wrapped around a glass of water, Mingyu looks as drained as he feels.

“Here. Drink some.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, taking the glass and chugging down half of it just as Hansol’s phone buzzes, signalling a booked cab. He doesn’t look at Mingyu when he says, “Thanks.”

“Can we talk?”

There’s a little pause where nobody is saying anything, all extremely immersed in pretending they’re not listening in, and Mingyu gives a small pained grimace. “Look, guys--”

“Alright, alright, we’re going, we’re going,” Jeonghan drawls, rolling his eyes and smirking at the same time. He stands up and drags Seungcheol with him. “Don’t look like he’s gonna have his way with Seungkwan all of a sudden, Choi Seungcheol, they’re my children and they’re still growing, no one can be as _in-touch with their emotions_ as you are…” He trails off and they walk in the general direction of the bar.

Hansol takes a bit more effort, asking Seungkwan with his eyes if it’s okay to leave him alone, and when Seungkwan nods he stands, telling him he has “five-ish minutes before the cab comes, Boo” and offering Mingyu a “sorry, hyung, good luck”  before stealing into a booth nobody’s sitting in and idling around on his phone just out of earshot.

Finally, they’re alone.

Mingyu takes the seat across him. Seungkwan remains slouched in his place. Now it’s Mingyu’s turn to look anywhere but at him. Seungkwan feels the urge to scoff.

“So? What did you want to talk about?”

Mingyu visibly steels himself, inhaling a deep breath and forcing himself to look Seungkwan in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

This time, the scoff is out before he can stop it. “Fuck that.”

“No, Seungkwan, for god’s sake--” Mingyu huffs out a sharp exhale. “Can we please just. Chill. Maybe.”

Seungkwan gives. “Fine. I’m chill.”

Mingyu smiles a little at that. “Again,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Genuine question,” Seungkwan hurriedly tacks on before it gets misinterpreted. “I think it’s me who should be sorry this time, honestly.”

Mingyu snorts to himself. “At least he’s aware,” he mutters. Seungkwan shoots him a glare but lets it slide. Point.

“Anyway. I’m sorry? For, uh, again, making you think that I was implying I was judging you for being flirty. I would never judge someone for any kind of lifestyle they wanted to pursue, short of like, I dunno, being a serial killer or something, and maybe even then if they targeted dumbass politicians I’d be okay with it--”

“Hyung. Tangent.”

Mingyu grimaces, ruffling his hair and wiping his hands. “Shit. Sorry. Nervous.”

“What for?” he asks again.

Mingyu pauses. “Nevermind. Anyway, yeah, um. So that whole thing. I’d never judge someone based on if they were, like, _hoes_ or not or something, least of all someone I actually consider a close, um, friend.” The hesitation kind of makes Seungkwan want to go into overdrive. ‘Close, um, friend.’ The fuck does that mean? Mingyu doesn’t give him time to dwell on it, though.

“Plus, for yelling at you like I did, I’ve never, um. I don’t like it when I get angry enough to snap. I don’t like yelling, so, um, yeah. And also, really, whatever I did to make you so upset tonight, I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, I don’t think, and if you could just, _enlighten_ me or something on what I did, that’d be, um, very much… appreciated?”

He can’t help it. Seungkwan giggles despite himself, and Mingyu smiles a little in response, looking hopeful. Whatever else emotional turmoil he causes him, Kim Mingyu is at least very, very cute.

Seungkwan kind of wants to kiss him.

He takes another gulp of water to control his expression before talking his turn. “Sure. Apology accepted, whatever.”

Mingyu looks both relieved and dismayed at the same time, like he’s glad they’re fine but disappointed whatever he said wasn’t… enough.

“I’m not yet done.”

“Ah.”

Seungkwan steels himself too. He doesn’t like apologizing, but this time, even he knows it was him who was out of line. He needs to let Mingyu know that, at least. Mingyu didn’t have to apologize for anything.

Well, maybe except for the yelling. That did freak him out.

“Um. I. I’m sorry, too. I know I was too much tonight and, um, well, you’ve let me know you were upset by it and honestly, um, you know me. I always get caught up in emotions and-- and pettiness and I hate it but, like, I try to temper it, you know? I’m sorry you get the brunt of a lot of my fits, and, hah, I’d tell you stay away from me so you don’t get caught up with my bullshit anymore but, who wants that? Certainly not me.” He stops. “Do-- do you?”

Mingyu looks startled. “Do I what?”

“Do you,” Seungkwan swallows. “Do you want to stay away from me?”

The abrupt snort and immediate “No?” does actually assure Seungkwan.

“Nice. Good answer. You’re stuck with me.” Then his words catch up with him and he clears his throat. “ _Anyway_. Um. I’m sorry for tonight, again, and, um, I was really out of line, I guess, and yelling back, and implying judgment for _your_ own hopping around, and, uh--”

He looks around, hoping to maintain the lack of eye contact, and happens to glance in Hansol’s direction.

“Oh, um-- I’d explain more if you want but Hansol’s doing that weird… wave thing he does when he wants to say something but doesn’t know if he can interrupt or not so I’m gonna save him, myself, and you all this awkwardness and from me rambling even when I wanted to be cool and apologize properly and just up and leave now ugh _bye_ \--”

Mingyu catches him by the wrist when he makes to leave their booth and holds him in place. “What the fuck, Kwan,” he says with a laugh in his voice. “Wait a minute?”

“Cab’s here!” Hansol calls towards them.

“Hold up!” Seungkwan turns to Mingyu. “Hyung, um, really, I’m sorry. We’re good, right?”

Mingyu still hasn’t let go of his wrist, and now that they’re both standing up it holds him in place so much closer to Mingyu, and he’s freaking out a bit about it, he has to look up to look Mingyu in the face, it’s not _fair_ how attractive he is from this close and Seungkwan wants to brush his hair out of his face--

“Of course we’re good.”

“Thanks, hyung, can I go now, the poor cab driver-- mmf--”

Seungkwan doesn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence because Mingyu suddenly wraps him up in the biggest, tightest, tallest hug he has ever received.

“They charge too much, anyway, could have driven you home myself,” he hears Mingyu mumble into his neck where he’s buried his face. Seungkwan stands there dumbly before his brain starts working again and he laughs softly, cheeks warming. His arms go up to wrap around Mingyu’s waist, hands resting on his back. The fabric of Mingyu’s sweater is soft under his skin.

“You know that’s not allowed,” he mumbles back, squeezing hard. “We both drank tonight.”

Mingyu laughs too, and Seungkwan feels the rumble of it in his own chest.

“Sorry again.” Mingyu starts pulling back, and Seungkwan misses it immediately.

“Me too.”

On a whim, Seungkwan asks, “Do you want to meet for coffee after class next week? We can talk more then,” and he doesn’t know if he hopes Mingyu can feel how hard his heart is thumping in his chest or not. The smile that spreads on Mingyu’s face is soft and playful, and this time it’s Seungkwan’s turn to trail his gaze over Mingyu’s lips.

“Sure. Text?”

“Sure.” Mingyu detaches completely, and Seungkwan whips around and wastes no time in getting as much space between him and Mingyu as possible, going to where Hansol is. He’s sure, he’s one hundred percent sure his face is bright, bright red and extremely unattractive right now. Dimly, he registers just how many emotions he went through in one single night. No wonder he’s glitching now.

Beside him, Hansol laughs. “That was cute.”

“Shut up,” he says in a furious undertone. “Stop me if I look back.”

“Hah, alright.”

He doesn’t, and when Seungkwan looks back Mingyu is still staring after them, nursing his own glass of water with an unreadable expression on his face. He raises a hand in a small wave goodbye, and Seungkwan’s heart throbs. _God._

They make their way out of the club and into the sobering cold night air. Seungkwan hits Hansol lightly on the arm. “I _said_ stop me.”

“Who am I to get in the way of true love?” Hansol returns, grin bright and full-force, making their way inside the cab. “Good evening, ajussi. Yes, that’s the right address, thanks so much. And no, Seungkwan, seriously, that was cute,” he says in the same breath, turning back to Seungkwan as the driver starts navigating their way back home. “Straight out of a manhwa. Have you ever noticed how small you are beside Mingyu-hyung?”

“I changed my mind, leave me alone, you’re nothing to me,” Seungkwan slaps Hansol on the thigh and crosses his arms. He keeps it up for a grand total of ten seconds before giving the act up. “ _Nnngh_ , he’s so _tall_ , it’s _annoying_.”

“Maybe say that without that smile on your face and I can go about believing you?”

“Let me be, Sol, he hugged me first, like, he literally pulled me into a hug, what the fuck does that even mean,” Seungkwan mutters into his hands. His face still feels warm.

“That he’s been watching dramas lately. Man, go, Mingyu-hyung. Get it.” Hansol laughs to himself again. Seungkwan hits him lightly one more time before making himself comfortable on Hansol’s shoulder.

“Don’t close your eyes, okay, we’re almost back,” Hansol tells him without looking away from the window. “If you throw up you’re paying for this ride.”

“No throwing up, please!” comes the worried voice of the cab driver up front.

“Don’t worry, ajussi, your cab will be fine,” Seungkwan says. The man seems appeased, but keeps looking at the rearview mirror to check on them anyway.

“Sol, I asked him for coffee next week. Should I tell him then?” Seugkwan asks, almost shy.

“That… honestly depends on you, Boo. What you want to do isn’t up to me, but, I dunno, maybe be sure about your feelings? But you’re already pretty sure, aren’t you? That’s why you were trying to make him jealous?”

Seungkwan giggles lightly. “That’s a lot of questions. But… yeah, for the most part, I think I’m sure. And, hah, yeah. I wasn’t being very subtle about that, was I? And I think it kind of worked, too. Sorry I used you to make him jealous.”

Hansol snorts and rolls his eyes a bit. “That’s fine. I caught on, at least.”

“We’re good, right?”

Might as well make sure with Hansol, too.

"Yeah, Kwan,” Hansol says, smiling slightly. “We’re good.”

They arrive at their boarding house a few minutes later, and Hansol immediately throws himself on the covers as Seungkwan takes first turn to shower and brush his teeth. When he gets back, Hansol is already asleep, still in his outside clothes, so Seungkwan wakes him up and sends him to at least wash his face and feet and brush his teeth, with minimal grumbling. 

Giving his phone a last cursory look, he scrolls through the notifications of the group chatbox, all parties eventually having checked in to say they’ve all gotten home safe and sound. And there’s one individual text from Mingyu:

>> glad you got home safe

Seungkwan grins, flopping down on his bed.

<< thanks

>> :)

>> we still up for coffee?

<< yep. within the week

>> alright.

>> sleep now

>> good night

>> :) !!

There are butterflies in his stomach. Honestly, he doesn’t want there to be, but he’s back in high school, exchanging goodnight messages with a cute boy. Which… might be a bit weird, huh, if the fact that he and Mingyu were classmates were to be taken into consideration.

<< goodnight, mingyu

<< ,,hyung

>> nice

<< mkay sweet dreams etc etc

>> [puppy emoji]

<< nerd

Mingyu doesn’t reply after that, so Seungkwan presumes he’s fallen asleep. Once he’s fully settled into bed himself, the tiredness of the whole evening hits him full force he’s almost dizzy again, alcohol still buzzing in his veins, and he falls asleep instantly.

**Author's Note:**

> @ me on twitter ! [sugaboos](https://twitter.com/sugaboos);;;;; i need more seungkwan x mingyu mutuals:):):)


End file.
